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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27809908">Cold hallways and solitude</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Veritea/pseuds/Veritea'>Veritea</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>RWBY</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Also hooray I finished something, But Oscar’s kind of a lost cause ngl, I swear he deserves better, It feels good to be writing again, Same goes for Oscar, So I’m holding out hope for Whitley, Whitley redemption arc when</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 17:00:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>535</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27809908</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Veritea/pseuds/Veritea</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A Whitley character study (takes place in volume 8, although there aren’t really any v8 spoilers).<br/>In which Whitley contemplates his current situation.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Cold hallways and solitude</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Schnee manor was a ridiculously large building, but it had never really felt that way. There had always been several dozen staff members milling around it at any given time, not to mention the hundreds of guests that sometimes attended the parties held in the ballroom. </p><p>The Schnee manor was a cold place to grow up, but he had managed. Not only had he managed—he had flourished. He had thrived. His father had believed in him, and that was more than Weiss or Winter could say. Cowards, both of them. Leaving as soon as they had the chance and going off to become… what? Heroes? His father would often go off on tangents about how irresponsible and disgraceful they were, and he would always nod and agree wholeheartedly.</p><p>Even if they were cowards, he was beginning to question if they had done the right thing by fleeing the massive responsibilities behind the Schnee family name.</p><p>The Schnee manor was empty now. The staff were gone. The guests had better things to do than attend a party when the world was falling apart. His mother was gone—holed up in her room with many, many bottles of liquor. When she did emerge for a few minutes at a time, she looked so pale and so completely exhausted that he didn’t dare talk to her. </p><p>His father was gone, too. Off in some jail cell, probably.</p><p>Wondering why his son wasn’t doing something to ensure his swift release, probably.</p><p>These days, there was nothing to do. He mainly occupied himself by trying to figure out how to cook proper meals. He hadn’t been very successful—he didn’t have much to show for his efforts except some barely edible dishes and a small scar on his left index finger from the time he had attempted to chop some onions. </p><p>His culinary exploits might have been funny if there was someone around who was willing to laugh at them. The manor might have felt less suffocating if there was someone around who was willing to fill it up with insightful comments or listen to him talk. Not just about the weather, either. It would’ve been nice if that someone wanted to hear about things that concerned him. Not the Schnee family or the SDC—just him.</p><p>And now he was drowning in a well of self pity and utter foolishness. It seemed that the weeks of solitude had really done a number on his brain. </p><p>He would be fine eventually. Eventually, everything would return to normal and he could go back to doing the things he knew how to do, like laughing politely when someone told a joke that wasn’t funny and figuring out the right tone of voice to use to talk to someone who had been rude to him in the past. </p><p>For now, though, he would have to wait.</p><p>The sound of the front doorbell rang out, and he sighed, getting to his feet and heading down the hall. He had better go see who it was before their impromptu visitors got too impatient. </p><p>He just hoped that they were bringing some good news. He’d already experienced enough misfortune to last for a lifetime. </p><p> </p>
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